The Consequence of his Forfeiture
by x-blueskygirl-x
Summary: Sherlock surrendered to his fate when he jumped off of Barts to save the few he cared for, however, he left behind his own daughter who's life took a turn after the dismay of his supposed death.
1. Chapter 1

There were some things Loretta knew about her life, and some things she did not want to know. For example;

1) Her name was Loretta Jayne Holmes

2) She was 16 years of age, and _not_ a child.

3) Her guardian was an ex-army-doctor now normal doctor, John Hamish Watson.

4) Her father was dead.

5) Her father was a great man.

6) Her father was a truthful man.

7) Her father was a hated man.

8) Her father was a liar.

9) Out of all of them last five points, she did not know what ones were true.

10) Oh, and someone was trying to kill her.

* * *

**Hai,**

**So, that's just a little introduction to the story, yeah I know it's short but the others will be a lot longer, this is just a little prologue.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy,**

**Tammy x**


	2. Chapter 2

Another day. Another hour. Another minute. Another second.

All of them moments seemed to go in a blur, nothing meant everything, everything meant nothing, and all of Lorey hated all of it.

Especially this day. This particular day. The anniversary of _his_ death. The anniversary of her fathers forfeiture.

Yes, forfeiture was the correct word. Sherlock Holmes had given up his life, his friends and his family.

It had only been a year ago, Loretta (mostly known as Lorey by those she liked)had been staying in California with her mother when it had occurred. She was 15 years old and had only been staying with her mother for the past few years following her fathers addiction to drugs. They all had thought that he was to dangerous to care for a young girl, he was more then likely to kill her and create his own crime scene... Apparently. Lorey did not particularly like her mother, she was as cruel as ice and more bitter then a December night, she had not been saddened when her mother had passed away the day after her father.

When it was identified that both of Lorey's parents had passed away within such a short time, the child services had decided that Lorey was to go and stay with her uncle, Mycroft. Yet, Mycroft hardy had no time for his niece. He cared for her, but his job was simply to important. And so, Mycroft had granted John Watson custody of the girl, Mycroft knew that John had cared greatly for Mycroft's younger brother and, in conclusion, would have been able to put up with the shenanigans of the moods of Lorey that Mycroft had already highlighted from the two days he had spent with her.

"Should we go and see him?" John Watson, of 43 Fleetwood Street, asked the raven black haired girl that sat silently in her large room upon the double bed with the purple silk cover.

"See who?" Lorey sighed, turning to face the slowly aging man, she knew who she was talking about, yet her mind was else where to visiting the dark graveyard she would escape to whenever her life got to complicated to comprehend. She always felt like he was there, beside her, listening to her and comforting her.

"Sherlock" John said gently, he knew she was not in the mood to mourn, she had mourned for ages after his death; just like him. She hadn't been the only one who had been hurt but John understood, he had heard vaguely about her life in California. "I tell you what, we'll go and replace the flowers and then we'll go and have a meal, where ever you want to go."

"Sounds alright, but you can choose where we go, you know you'll eat more" Lorey said, putting on a slight smile and standing up before slipping on her boots. She had received her fathers small appetite and had never been a fan of large meals. Before she knew it, her and John were standing in front of the black grave with the words 'Sherlock Holmes' engraved on them. "Why don't you say something?" Lorey said to John before he had the chance to say it to her.

"Hmm" John thought quickly, making it all up on the spot while Lorey stared at him "well, Sherlock... We were friends, no, I meant _best_ friends and I'm sure you saw the state I was in when you left and you were probably rolling your eyes at me and disappointed at how badly I took your de- death. And I'm sorry that it took me so long to get my life back to right. I still miss you, I remember how amazing you were when you deducted about everyone's lives within seconds... I keep hoping that you'll reappear and everything will be back to normal and I was certain for ages that you had faked it all and I kept expecting you to walk in one day with your arrogant look on your face. God I bloody hated all your facial expressions." Lorey let out a small giggle and placed down the flowers her and John had just brought.

"I think everybody did, you know the 'we all know what's _really_ going on here' look?" Lorey asked, standing back up straight.

"He did that to many times... Especially when I didn't have a clue what was going on" John chuckled.

"I miss him, John" Lorey said suddenly, staring at the grave. John had got use to Lorey changing subject and moods very quickly, she would change the subject if she knew that the conversation was going no where and her moods would also change randomly.

"I do too" John muttered.

**From** behind a near-by tree, Sherlock Holmes watched John Watson and Loretta Holmes talking in front of the grave. He heard the conversation quietly and as much as he wanted to go out and speak to them, show them that he was still here with them; he knew he couldn't. He had not been surprised when Mycroft had given up Lorey and had given her to John and Sherlock dreaded having to go and see his older brother. But there was no other way to check the progress of Moriarty's web being destroyed. After some time, Sherlock walked out of the graveyard and walked to Mycroft's large house, keeping his head down and putting on a hat which covered his face from anyone who may recognise him.

**Mycroft** walked into his home, pouring himself a small drop of whiskey and flipping the light switch. He frowned when he saw the tall and dark figure of his brother sitting in his armchair.

He wasn't surprised.

"Ah, where have you been staying then?" Mycroft asked, straight to the point, as usual. He walked over to another armchair and sat upon it, placing his whiskey on the small coffee table.

"Molly assisted me in finding a home in Surrey, yet I have been travelling around" Sherlock explained briefly.

"I gathered so, the sudden raise in criminal deaths caught me off-guard until I realised the similarity of the fact that they all worked for Mr James Moriarty."

"I have been driven to rid the world of them, if I reappear then they shall kill John, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, Lorey and any others that seemed to have the smallest amount of concern for me."

"You have already got rid of all of them it seems" Mycroft muttered as Sherlock placed his fingertips together.

"I hoped that was the case."


End file.
